![]() ![]() I kept my backpack on as I perched in the truck’s pickup with all its junk. He looked me up and down before replying, “Si,” shrugging his shoulders. “Esta bien?” I asked, pointing to the truck’s back end instead. ![]() The driver nodded and gestured to the seat next to him. “La cascada?” – the waterfall ? – I asked. Most of all, the girl in the window looked alone, in a supposed dangerous country that spoke a foreign language, about to get into the back of a stranger’s pickup truck and – in an ideal world – live to tell the tale. For a moment I stood staring at my reflection: my face had flushed in the hot weather and with no make-up on, I looked seventeen rather than twenty-four. I repeated the number plate in my head as many times as I could before reaching the driver’s window. I approached the truck’s rear, bringing my hands up to grip the straps of my backpack tighter. After thirty-seconds, a red pickup truck flashed and then stopped further down the road. ![]()
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